


A Story You Know

by EzraTheBlue



Series: Senseless [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blind Character, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Deaf Character, Disabled Character, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Puppy Love, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 16:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21304805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: The gods gifted every person with a soulmate, but until one meets their soulmate, they are deprived of one of their senses. Noctis was lucky and met his soulmate young... But that wasn't happily ever after.Gladiolus tells the tale of how he and Noctis came together as soulmates, and then all the things that came after.The sequel toWithout Sense!
Relationships: Clarus Amicitia/Gladiolus & Iris Amicitia's Mother, Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Series: Senseless [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535891
Comments: 25
Kudos: 94





	A Story You Know

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel/side story to [Without Sense](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19286428), which takes place in a universe where everyone is born missing one of their senses until they meet their soul mate. I mentioned that Gladio and Noctis met and found each other as soul mates at the ages of six and three, respectively. I wanted to explore their time from when they met to the present, because Noctis went through a great deal as a child. 
> 
> The time to explore their history has come. Enjoy!

**A Story You Know**

That was one of the things Gladio loved about Noctis: he cared when it counted. The day after Prompto and Ignis found their missing senses, Noctis’ living room was lined with sound-absorbing panels. Gladio noticed them as Noctis led Prompto into his apartment, with Prompto wearing a conspicuous pair of battered old headphones emitting a faint hiss of white noise. Noctis was signing and talking at the same time as he walked in with Prompto: “I’ve got to go meet up with Ignis and my dad. Gladio said he wanted to talk to you for a little bit. Is that cool?”

Gladio rolled his eyes, wanting to correct Noctis, but well aware that Noctis was deliberately keeping the details simple. What was actually happening was that Ignis was meeting with Regis, Clarus, Cor, and Ignis' uncle and detailing precisely what had happened the previous day. He was also requesting full access to the Citadel for Prompto, given his developing relationship with Prompto and his desire to give Prompto access to the Citadel’s doctors and therapists. 

Prompto had the same Insomnian Universal Healthcare as every Crown Citizen. However, his personal funds were limited, by his own admission, and the best specialists and therapists were available only to nobility. Ignis wanted to pay for Prompto’s rehabilitation out of his own pocket; regardless if the two decided they made a good couple, Prompto had given him the gift of sight. Ignis felt he owed him that much even if nothing else came of their union, but already Gladio was sure that their first disastrous encounter would be the start of something interesting.

Their first night together had gone as smoothly as one could imagine, with Ignis hardly able to tear his eyes off of Prompto as they exchanged short messages by phone dictation, and with Prompto edging the headphones just off his ears sometimes so he could hear Ignis talking to Gladio or Noct across the room even though he didn't understand. Ignis managed to nick his finger chopping onions and burnt the anak cutlets because he got distracted watching Prompto laughing while playing a game with Noctis, while wondering aloud, “Does laughter always sound this beautiful? Have people always looked like that while laughing?”

“Yes,” Gladio had told him, trying not to sound exasperated as he fixed Ignis’ bandages for the third time, “You’re just not used to it.”

Gladio didn’t mind watching over the two of them, not even a little. He was a little in love with love, and seeing Ignis tumble head over heels into it was making all the soft, squishy parts of his heart (hidden carefully under a wall of muscle) turn into gelatin.

For Prompto’s part, he dared to take off the soundproof headphones at the end of the night to whisper a good night to Ignis before Gladio drove him home. Ignis whispered ‘good night’ right back, then kissed him on the forehead. Prompto keened, then clamped his hands down over his ears again as his own glee thrashed his equilibrium. Ignis was devastated, and began to shout to Gladio asking what to do and making Prompto’s pain even worse.

They were a mess. Gladio loved it. 

Noctis had grabbed a few pieces of his raiment and was about to run back to the Citadel, but Gladio stopped him at the door. “You wait just five seconds, your Highness.” 

“Make me.” Noct stuck his tongue out as Gladio held him by one shoulder and slid his sash onto his chest, then affixed the pins in place. 

“You don’t have time to test me right now.” He kissed him a few times on the forehead as he fastened the last pin on, then grabbed a gladiolus blossom off of his most recent bouquet and tucked it into Noctis’ lapel. “Knock ‘em dead.”

“Like I’m gonna have to fight that hard.” Noctis rolled his eyes, and Gladio pinched his cheek. "It's probably only taken this long because Dad's too excited congratulating Ignis for Ignis to spit his request out."

“That doesn’t mean you don’t go in there swinging. You get Prompto that clearance, Ignis wants Prompto to get the works and he’s not gonna get that unless he can get to the Citadel doctors.” 

“I want this just as much as Specs does.” Noct smoothed his hair, then cupped his palm over the flower on his breast, carefully feeling over the delicate petals. A small, precious smile graced his visage, and he got up onto tiptoe to kiss Gladio on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You do that.” Gladio blew him a kiss as he pivoted, schooling his expression as he went, and Gladio watched him go. 

Then, he turned his attention to Prompto.

He’d liked Prompto enough on meeting him. He was a sunspot, so bright and warm and easy to love. It almost made Gladio want to resist adoring the kid in case he didn't stick around, because Noct could be shy at his best and reactionary at his worst and there was a chance Noctis might spook and scare Prompto off. However, it seemed that Prompto was just the right pill for Noctis’ social anxiety. He brought out Noctis’ sunny side like Noctis was reflecting Prompto’s light. Gladio would be stern with the kid when he had to, but for now, he would be just as good to Prompto as he was to Noctis.

Well, almost. Noctis was a special case.

Prompto was putting his bag down, hanging his jacket, putting his shoes by the door, and adjusting his earphones. Gladio approached him and tapped him on the shoulder. Prompto still jumped just a little, and Gladio winced, but when Prompto turned around, he was already smiling and brought his hands up to sign. _ “Sorry! I forgot you were there!” _

_ “That’s okay,” _ Gladio signed back, the movements smooth and natural. _ “You’re preoccupied, right?” _

Prompto laughed. _ “That’s an understatement!” _

Gladio had been signing since before he’d been “talking,” so _ talking _ to Prompto was as natural as _ talking _ to Iris or his dad. It would almost be weird talking to him out loud after six months of sign language only. _ “I bet. You’ll get used to it. You’ll just have to remember to listen for people as much as you watch them.” _ He’d never gotten to do this particular exercise with either his dad or sister - not yet - but he held out hope for Iris, at the very least. _ “Come and sit with me. You gotta do some practice, and while we’re waiting on Specs and Noct, we can do one of the exercises from this book Specs got for you.” _

(“Got” was, again, a misstatement. What Gladio meant by "this book Specs got" was “this book Ignis made Gladio find on Wennathia.com, overnighted, then harassed the delivery service by phone until it arrived.” "For Prompto" was significant in more ways than Gladio would ever tell the kid.)

_ “That’s awesome!” _ Prompto bounded over to the table, and read the title of the book aloud: “Hearing Therapy for the Newly Aural.” His eyes went wide, and he whipped right back aloud to Gladio, hands fast and wild. _ “??? got this for me?!” _

Gladio didn’t recognize that first sign, and he quickly signed back, _ “Repeat.” _He tried to imitate the sign he couldn't read.

Prompto gasped, then slowed down the sign Gladio hadn’t recognized: "I" into a heart, and he said it aloud: “Iggy.” 

Gladio grinned. He was ordering those two wedding invitations tomorrow. Overnighting them, too.

_ “I guess I’m not allowed to use that one?” _Gladio flicked his hands, grinning in his friendly teasing way. Prompto blushed and shook his head “no.” _ “Cool. That’s fine. Have a seat. Take off your headphones. I flipped through and I found a good exercise to start.” _

Prompto settled himself on Noctis’ sofa, nervously tapping his fingers on the knees of his uniform pants and Gladio pulled a chair around so he could face Prompto directly. He motioned to Prompto’s ear, tapping his own with one finger, and Prompto grimaced, but pulled the headphones off. Prompto looked nervous, and Gladio pointed up to get Prompto to look. “You see?” He repeated his words, then signed and spoke at the same time, soft and quiet, motions sharp but subdued. “Those are sound-muting. They’ll absorb extra noise and muffle some sounds. It should make things a little easier for you until your ears adjust. Can you hear me okay?”

“C-crystal clear.” Prompto signed and spoke at the same time. The signs compensated for him mumbling. “It’s s-scary without the headphones. One loud noise and everything’s awful.”

Gladio frowned with concern. Prompto hadn’t stuttered when he couldn’t hear. Maybe it was just that he was trying to speak aloud more often, or maybe now that he could hear his own voice, he was self-conscious of how he sounded. One more thing to work on. “You’re just getting used to it. That’s why we’ve got the book, and the soundproof pads.” He flipped a few pages in the book, and signed on, slow and careful and keeping his voice apace with his hands. “Let’s try this one, okay? I’m gonna tell you a story you know. I’m gonna sign it and say it so you can get used to hearing words being said without worrying too much about what exactly I’m saying. Sound good?” Gladio grinned and put a little swing in the last two signs, and Prompto laughed.

“I like that idea!” He grinned and sat forward, then reverted to sign exclusively: _ “What story are you going to tell?” _

Gladio hummed as he thought (deliberately exaggerating the noise to Prompto could get used to nonverbal cues), then shrugged. “How about the way I met Noct? Noct told you, right?” Prompto nodded. “Okay.” 

The book had told Gladio to keep his signs as neutral as possible, and to speak evenly without distraction. “If I have to stop, like if the phone rings or there’s someone at the door. I’m going to sign ‘stop.’ If that happens, you can put your headphones back on. If you don't understand and need me to repeat something, you can either sign or say 'repeat.'” 

“I und-derstand.” Prompto nodded again, then leaned forward. “So, tell me!”

Gladio gave him the thumbs up, then thought about it before starting: “It was twelve years ago. I was six years old. Noctis was three…”

* * *

_ “Promise to be on your best behavior for Prince Noctis.” _ Dad looked enormous in the tiny hallway outside of the King’s personal study, but despite his size, he always used small, short, choppy signs. So did Uncle Cor and Monica and all the Crownsguard people. Gladio had learned to sign from Mom, but he knew not to get too expressive with Dad and kept his hands close to his chest:

_ “I promise.” _ Dad had told him that he was going to be the Prince’s Shield, like Dad was the King’s Shield. He had a very important job, and someday, Gladio would too. He would protect the most important man in the whole world.

He didn’t know what Prince Noctis was like, but he really wanted to.

Clarus nodded gravely, then knelt down to look into Gladio’s face and signed at eye level with him. _ “Noctis is fairly delicate. He was born too soon, and he also can’t feel.” _ He patted Gladio’s shoulders with his palms, then went on, _ “Like that. If his eyes were closed and I did that, he would not know anyone had touched him. He does not feel hot or cold, either. He would not know if he were in trouble until it was too late. He’ll need someone to feel for him, too.” _ Clarus put a hand on Gladio’s heart, then whispered in his raspy, unpracticed speech: “You have a big heart. You can do it.”

Gladio felt a little tight, then nodded sharply and signed back. _ “Yes sir.” _He finished with a salute, and Clarus nodded, a small smile crossing his grave features. Then he stood up and knocked on the door of Regis’ study.

Gladio heard, “Come in!” from within. Clarus instead tested the handle, then entered without further delay. Regis, his salt-and-pepper hair messy, was sitting on the floor with a tiny dark haired boy, flipping through a large print storybook. Gladio thought he felt something when he looked at Noctis: he was so _ little _. So tiny. Gladio was already pretty big for six, and Mama told him all the time how big and handsome he was getting. He knew Noctis didn’t have a mom, though. He bit his lip as Regis stood, smoothing his hair back but freeing up his hands. 

Regis’ signing was stunningly fluent, but then, he and Clarus had been friends since they were young so he’d had plenty of time to learn. He spoke for Gladio and Noctis’ benefit, but signed to Clarus: “Good afternoon, gentlemen! It’s very good to see you!” He turned and spoke towards Noctis. “Noctis, will you stand and greet our guests?”

“Nah.” Noctis continued flipping pages in the book. Gladio frowned. That wasn’t very prince-ly. 

Regis winced, then smiled nervously and made a few quick signs to Clarus: _ “Apologies. He just woke up from a nap, I’m still trying to get him back in action.” _ He spoke aloud again. “Noctis, dear, I told you we were having visitors. Let’s stand up and say hello.” Regis didn’t wait, but picked Noctis up and set him on his feet. “Gladiolus, please come say hello.”

Clarus tapped Gladio’s shoulder, and Gladio looked to see him sign, _ “Go introduce yourself like a gentleman.” _

Gladio nodded, then approached Noctis. Noctis stepped back and behind Regis’ leg, but Regis nudged him forward. “Go on, Noct.” 

Noctis tottered a few steps forward, then extended a little hand. His fingers were shaking, and Gladio leaned towards him. “It’s okay. I won’t bite.” Noctis looked up, and - wow, his eyes were awfully blue, weren’t they?

Gladio felt something. He didn’t have a word for it, but it was like something had touched him in a place deep in his chest and it sent ripples throughout him. Gladio reached out and took his hand to shake-

Noctis gasped.

Gladio’s nose _ burned_.

First he was hit by **HARSH**, BRIGHT, _ stinging _ sensation like he'd gotten a mouthful of soap and vinegar, chased by the overwhelming taste of chalk and flowers. Gladio staggered back and tried to spit into his hand, but his mouth was empty and every heaving breath he took just filled his mouth and nose with more of it. Clarus cried out in panic behind him, but Gladio kept heaving in air to try and clear the invisible mouthful of _ awful _ from his tongue, except it wasn't _ on _ his tongue, it **burned** in his nose and throat. The overwhelming flavor made his eyes tear and made his nose run with gunk, and Clarus lunged in to pull him back, shouting nearly incoherently at Regis, until the overwhelming panic got to his stomach. Gladio frantically searched for a place to be sick, but only spotted a potted ficus. He bolted for it and turned out his stomach, crying and retching as he finally began to process:

_ Is this what smell is like? _

Behind him, Noctis was staring at his own little hand, dumbfounded. He opened and closed his fingers a few times, then touched his shirt, then Regis' pants. Gladio heard Noctis cry out happily, but lost himself in being sick again before he could fully assemble the pieces: the first thing Noctis had ever felt was Gladio's handshake.

* * *

"To this day, I hate the smells of King Regis' favorite cologne and baby powder. It's so bad, his Majesty won't wear it if he knows he's going to see me." Gladio grinned, and Prompto laughed, then covered his mouth.

"I'm sorry! S-sorry!" He shook his head. "It's a little funny. At least you didn't break something, like I did, right?"

"Nah, but I was embarrassed after puking in front of the king!" Gladio laughed it off, shaking his head. "It's okay, really. The change is a shock for everyone." Gladio kept his hands close to his chest as he went on: "Plus, let's be real, the odds of you tripping on your shoelaces are pretty even on a normal day."

Prompto blew a raspberry at Gladio. "Boo, I've only done it that b-bad once. So, what did you do next?" He tapped his nose. "Is there smell therapy?"

"Sort of? It's more like acclimation. Kind of like the headphones and soundproofing for you, my mom hooked me up…"

* * *

"Prince Noctis, my darling? How lucky you are." Hyacinthia Amicitia beamed as she leaned forward in her favorite armchair in Dad’s study and spread a layer of strong-smelling salve under Gladio's nose. It made his eyes water for a minute, but it was a neutral smell that would block other strong scents. It didn't make him gag, anyway. Then, she fixed a filtered mask over the bottom half of his face and cupped his cheeks in her palms. "It seems a little hard right now, but I promise you'll get used to it and the world will be a little more complete because of it." 

"Mama," he moaned as he shook his head, dislodging her hands. His voice was muffled through the mask. "Do I gotta marry him now?"

"Oh, no, no!" Hyacinthia laughed, eyes all crinkled up. "Mama told you, right? Mama married Papa, not Father Crocus." Gladio nodded.

Gladio had met his Mama's soul mate a few times; they met for lunch sometimes and occasionally exchanged letters. Hyacinthia had been born without her sense of smell like Gladio had, and had remained without it until she reached university. The priest at her school's on-campus chapel had awoken her nose the moment she laid eyes on him. 

(She fainted from the overwhelming odor of smoke from the votive candles burning in the chapel hall. At least, Gladio thought enviously, she didn't throw up in the king's fern.)

Father Crocus had taken vows of chastity and celibacy a year and change before meeting Hyacinthia. He liked her and considered her a friend, but he was unwilling to revoke his vows. Instead, they became fast friends. A few years later, Hyacinthia met Clarus when he came with Regis and his train during her commencement speech, and he'd pursued her. Ten years later, Mama and Dad loved each other as much as any pair of soul mates might, and here was Gladio as living proof.

"You don't have to decide anything yet, alright, darling?" She patted his cheek, and he grimaced. "Just be nice to Noctis and see what happens, my darling baby boy."

Gladio groaned and pushed her hand off. "I'm not a baby."

"Oh, you find your one true love and suddenly you're a man?" She laughed. "You'll always be my baby, even when you’re too big to get tickles!”

With that, Mama grabbed him around the waist and tickled him until he squealed, easily throwing him around. Gladio laughed so hard he almost cried, kicking and hollering with glee, until the study door shut loudly. 

Hyacinthia halted and tumbled back onto her chair, settling Gladio in her lap and facing the closed door as Clarus strode in with a bouquet of daisies in hand, and abruptly stopped at the sight of his wife and son. He quickly put the daisies in a vase and set them on the table, still eyeing Gladio so intensely he was sure Dad had shrink-ray eyes, making him feel tiny. Hyacinthia lifted her hands, her signs delicate and slow: _ “The flowers are beautiful, thank you, Clar.” _ Mom had a sign for Clarus that nobody else could use, but Gladio knew it so he knew not to use it. _ “Is everything alright?” _ Clarus didn’t respond immediately, and when he did, it wasn’t a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’

_ “Regis wants our boys to meet once a week for a playdate. He’s not going to insist on anything, nor force anything, but he wants them to have a chance to get to know one another properly.” _ Clarus eyed Gladio before striding across the room and kneeling down to ruffle his hair. He spoke, raspy with emotion, “You’ll treat Noctis nicely, won’t you?”

Gladio nodded and signed back, _ “I’ll try. Is he mad because I got sick?” _

Clarus shook his head. _ “No, King Regis understands. You had no control over that. And Noctis was far too distracted at feeling the different textures on everything in the room.” _ Gladio heard Mama giggle, but Clarus didn’t quite manage to hide a roll of his eyes, then kept signing. _ “I don’t think he understood what had happened. Don't worry.” _

Gladio scrunched his nose, and Hyacinthia laughed a little and spoke while signing for Clarus. “He’s a very little boy. He likely doesn’t understand yet.” She signed something over Gladio’s head where he couldn’t see, and Gladio squinted up.

Later, he would realize that his mother was telling his father that Gladio probably didn’t really understand, either.

However, he knew he felt _ something _ when he’d seen Noctis and taken his hand. 

* * *

Gladio was stuck wearing the facemask for weeks. He was doing odor therapy in a controlled room in the Citadel hospital. This mostly meant being exposed to limited levels of various smells, like a few sweet flowers, a plate of cookies, a mug of tea, or the upturned cap of a jar of cinnamon (though not the jar itself, not yet) for an hour a day to let his nose get used to scents. That meant that when he had his first play-date with Noctis, he was wearing his white filter mask and the herbal paste smeared under his nose. Clarus walked Gladio to the Citadel Gardens, where Noctis was chasing a butterfly under the watchful eye of his nanny. Gladio watched for a minute, then left his father’s side to approach. Noctis stopped chasing the butterfly when Gladio got close. He folded his arms tight against his baggy sweatshirt as Noctis toddled towards him.

“Hi.” Noctis stared up at him, then pointed at his face. “What’s that?”

Gladio scowled. “It’s a smell mask. 'Cause everything smells a lot.”

“Nu-uh.” Noctis crossed his arms. “I don’t smell!”

“You smell like baby powder, Dad said.”

Noctis blew a raspberry at Gladio. “Nu-uh!” Then he tugged Gladio’s arm. “Hey, can we play hide ‘n’ seek?”

“Sure. You hide first.” Gladio covered his eyes and counted down from thirty, and he heard Noctis’ little feet brushing the grass as he took off like a shot. Gladio discreetly uncovered his eyes once he was sure Noctis was gone. He could see Noctis wiggling his way behind a bush, and the nanny watching very carefully. Noctis wasn’t paying attention to him. Gladio decided to take a chance.

He got down to ‘one,’ then ran off in the opposite direction of where he’d seen Noctis hide. He could hear the little prince giggling from the bush as he crouched in the garden and plucked out wildflowers, white and purple blooms that looked a lot like the ones he’d seen in therapy. Once he had an armful, he ran over to Noctis’ hiding place and jumped behind the bush.

“Ha! Found you!” Gladio grinned so big it shifted his mask out of place, and Noctis squealed and flailed, laughing wildly. Gladio closed in on him and took his surprise as a chance to tuck the flowers into his wild, wiry hair, and Noctis gasped, watching in wonder. When Gladio had covered Noctis’ hair in a makeshift crown of flowers, Gladio pulled his mask off and sniffed at Noctis. He could smell the flowers now, but he could also smell Noctis, who now faintly smelled of baby soap and laundry detergent. Gladio faintly realized just how much he liked that, when Noctis took his hand again.

“It’s so big ‘n’ strong.” He squeezed Gladio’s hand. "I like it." Gladio’s heart squeezed in his chest. “Hey, can we play again?”

“Yeah!” Gladio fixed his mask, but he was grinning so widely it wouldn’t fit right as Noctis made to count and he ran and hid. 

A few play dates later, with hours of running and chasing and play-fighting behind them, Gladio found himself making Noctis a flower crown of the wild violets that grew in the garden. Noctis sat asleep on his lap. Gladio was focused at his task, but heard his mother’s voice:

“Oh, Clar, your Majesty. I didn't expect you here.” 

He glanced up, and saw his father watching him from the stairs to the veranda, his mother joining him, and King Regis beside them. Gladio swallowed, and tried to turn his attention back to the flowers, but he could see his father out of the corner of his eyes, signing to his mother:

_ “They’re drawn to each other like magnets.” _

“It’s my understanding,” Regis said softly, while signing for Clarus, “That often, soul mates are…” He hesitated, then motioned to them and finished, “Naturally compatible.”

“They’re only children.” Gladio saw his mother shaking her head. The stem in his fingers broke. He picked another.

“We can’t predict their future.” Regis turned to face Clarus, but Gladio could still hear him. “They're boys at play, for now, and I see nothing wrong here.”

Gladio was sure his father responded, from the way Hyacinthia whispered his name admonishingly, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He did hear Regis’ response: “We’ll find a solution. I know already that Gladiolus will be a good boy and a marvelous Shield. He seems to care for Noctis already.”

Gladio wasn’t sure about that. He'd only just started learning to hold and swing a sword, for one. For the other? He liked Noctis. He liked making Noctis laugh - his laugh was _ so _ cute - and his smile made Gladio light up inside. He was sweet and bubbly, if a little flighty, and Gladio liked playing with him. He wouldn’t trade his new little friend for the world. But was it love, like Mama and Dad? 

“I don’t want to interrupt them." Regis heaved a sigh. "Did you need Gladiolus?”

“I believe Clar was going to take him for training,” Hyacinthia said, and there was silence as Clarus responded. Gladio laid his finished crown over Noctis’ pale brow and the dark swath of ink-black hair, then eased the mask off his nose to breathe in Noctis’ scent. He was really starting to like being around him. From the way Noctis rolled over in his lap, smiling peacefully, Noctis liked being with Gladio too. Even so, from what Hyacinthia was saying, their time today would be over soon: “Your Majesty, would you like me to retrieve His Highness from our son’s lap?”

Regis laughed. “Give them another minute. I’ll retrieve Noctis. He should sleep in his bed. He's too young to have a bad back.” Gladio winced, already wishing Noctis didn’t have to leave. Sure enough, though, Regis soon crouched at his side, smiling fondly. “Thank you for looking after Noctis. May I put my son down to nap in his nursery?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, sir.” Gladio withdrew his hands and let Regis scoop him up. Regis stumbled a little on his bad knee, but he straightened up and righted the flower crown on Noctis’ head as he walked away with him.

Gladio watched Noctis be taken away, heart aching, until his mother came and took his hand. "Your dad wants you, baby boy." She beamed as she helped him up and walked him to the stairs, and Gladio saw the hard, somber look on Clarus' face as he approached.

He couldn't shake the unease he felt at that expression, not when he saw his father sign to his mother, _"We have to talk later." _

_ "Not in front of Gladiolus." _Gladio watched his mother's hands fly, and put his head down. 

Mama had said he didn't have to decide anything yet, but it seemed like there would be some decisions made about him without him…

* * *

"When y-you talk 'bout your Dad?" Prompto spoke up all of a sudden, and Gladio raised an eyebrow. "S-sorry."

"Nah, go on." Gladio shrugged.

"Just, he doesn't seem happy 'bout you and Noct."

"He wasn't." Gladio smiled wryly. "Still isn't, actually. Like, he's happy I love Noct, and that he loves me back, but I think he feels the same way he did when it first happened: he didn't know if I could be Shield if I was Prince-Consort."

"Oh." Prompto frowned, puzzling, then signed, _ "Repeat. That last word." _

_ "Prince-Consort."_ Gladiolus finger-spelled it, too._"That would be my title if Noct and I got hitched. King-Consort, when Noctis is King. Dad and King Regis researched it." _ Gladio laughed as he went on aloud, "I don't think I'd make a good Queen."

That got Prompto laughing. _ "O M G NO!" _ He signed it huge, and Gladio kicked him under the coffee table.

"Watch it, I bet I could pull off the look!" He imitated a dainty wave, still chuckling. Prompto snickered into his fist, as Gladio resettled himself in his chair. "But yeah. One of two things might have come up. For one, the old laws that rule the position of Shield would forbid a king or queen to marry their Shield, so if Noct and I wanted to, I'd have to step down from my position."

"Did they find out?"

"Dunno." Gladio shrugged. "It's a two-millennia old tradition, some of the books have kinda been lost. But King Regis was like, 'I'm King. I can just change the laws.'" Gladio hesitated. "But then there was the other thing my dad was concerned about. He thought that if I loved Noct, I might not be a good Shield for him."

Prompto's jaw dropped and hung open, and he signed with both hands as big as he could: _ "WHY?!" _

"My emotions would get in the way. Like, I might get emotional or whatever, and I wouldn't lift my sword when I had to. That my love would make me too weak to protect him."

"Are you kidding? I've known Ignis less than twenty-four h-hours and I'd throw hands for him and fight like a honey badger if anyone talked smack!" Prompto signed wildly as he spoke, emphasizing _ just how hard _ he'd fight. Gladio snorted. 

"Sure, kid. You float like a butterfly and sting like one too. But see, I was six. I couldn't just tell my dad how I felt, even if I had figured it out then. And I hadn't." He bit his lip. "They made some decisions without me. And… it kind of changed everything."

Prompto cocked his head. "How?"

Gladio hesitated again, then, slowly started: "Have I mentioned that I have a little sister?"

Prompto cocked his head. _ "Yeah, Iris, right?" _

* * *

Iris was the cutest, most precious thing Gladio had ever laid eyes on. She was tiny, with chubby pink cheeks and chubby little fingers, a lick of auburn hair on her brow with a purple hat over it to keep her tiny, squishy little head warm. She was always wrapped up in lots of pink blankets, her skin was always warm like an ember, her plump lips pouting in her sleep.

She was perfect. Gladio adored her. Their father couldn't look at her.

Clarus and Hyacinthia had been so excited about Iris. They'd found out she was coming a year and a few months after Gladio and Noctis met, and seemed to celebrate the happy occasion for months. Hyacinthia was always a little pale from the day she found out Iris was coming, long before they'd named her Iris, but she looked so happy when she touched her growing tummy and told Gladio, "Your sister is saying hello. I can't wait to meet her, can you?" 

Clarus had been uncharacteristically affectionate, hugging Hyacinthia tight whenever they had to part, whispering praise and love against her breast. He was so proud of her, so happy. Gladio was happy too. He didn't care why he was going to have a little sister, even at the whispers of "back-up Shield" behind Clarus' back where he would never hear. Gladio did.

Then Hyacinthia got sick; first in-bed-all-day sick, and then hospital-sick. Gladio didn't understand what the doctors were telling his dad, only that for some reason, the baby and Hyacinthia weren't compatible. Their blood didn't match, so Hyacinthia's body didn't want Iris inside of her. 

Gladio didn't understand, baby Iris was Mama's daughter, how could they not match? Mama and Dad already wanted her, loved her, why didn't Mama's body agree?

There were two solutions. Clarus explained them to Gladio after he’d been told, long after the decision was made. One was to stop baby Iris from coming, to take her out now, long before she was ready to live on her own. Iris wouldn't live, but Mama would. The other was to try to give Mama lots of medicine to trick her body into thinking Iris was supposed to be there and to keep her healthy. Mama and Iris might survive, but the risk remained for both mother and baby. 

Hyacinthia and Clarus already wanted Iris, loved Iris. They’d already named her. The choice was obvious.

The medicine worked. Hyacinthia kept Iris in long enough for Iris to live outside of her. 

The problem was that the very moment Iris was out of her, pink and howling, _ something _ happened. Gladio didn't understand, except he heard a nurse say "she's bleeding too fast" and he was forced from the room before he could say a word.

Hyacinthia never got to meet Iris.

Dad didn't want to touch Iris, as if he was afraid to hold her. He'd hardly spoken, barely a twitch off his hands in days. Jared, who'd always been like a grandfather to Gladio, had done most of what Iris needed since she'd come home. Gladio watched Jared dress her in the tiniest black mourning gown he could ever imagine existing, tuck her hat down over her head and her soft auburn hair to keep her warm. Then, Jared looked to Gladio with somber eyes. "Would you have me help you dress, too, my dear?"

Gladio shook his head. "I'm a big boy," he mumbled, and wandered off to dress himself for his mother's funeral.

Lady Amicitia's funeral was a state affair, and Gladio could only wonder at the crowds lining the streets with white flowers and candles in hand as they were driven through Insomnia to the Citadel. He kept his head down as they were ushered to the Citadel chapel. Clarus, Marshall Cor, two of their old friends (a wizened man older than King Regis and a thin, dark-skinned man with somber eyes), and two senior soldiers in the Crownsguard carried a white casket up to the chapel. Then, they waited for the service to begin, the pallbearers guarding the door, Jared holding a peaceful Iris, and Clarus slumped in a pew, weeping buckets. 

Gladio didn't know what to feel.

King Regis arrived and quickly swept Clarus into a hug, and Gladio saw him put his hand in Clarus' and sign against his palm,_ "You can cry, old friend." _ However, there was an impact against his chest, and Gladio realized Noctis had thrown his arms around him.

"M'sorry," Noctis mumbled into his shoulder. "M'sorry 'bout your Mom."

It faintly registered with Gladio that Noctis had never known his mother, like Iris never would. "Um… it… it's okay…"

"It's not fair." Noctis sniffled. "I'm sorry she's gone, I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," Gladio said, tongue numb. "It's my fault anyway, right?"

Noctis gasped. "No!"

That got Regis' attention, as well as Cor and both of their old friends. Regis turned between Cor and Jared, eyes frantic, and Cor quickly took Gladio's shoulder. 

"Gladiolus. Let's talk."

Cor took Gladio out into a silent hallway, but it didn't stay silent when Noctis followed. "It's not your fault! It's not!" 

"Yes it is!" Gladio felt a rush of tears to his eyes. "Mom died 'cause of Iris, and Iris happened 'cause of me! 'Cause you need another Shield!"

"No!" Noctis stomped his foot. 

"That's not true," Cor said softly. "Iris is here because your parents loved each other. Your mother is gone because of a medical accident." He gripped Gladio's shoulder and emphasized, "The end of her life was an accident. A tragedy. Your father would tell you the same, but do me a favor and never repeat what you said to him."

"But I know it's true. It's 'cause I'm not strong enough." Gladio bit his lip and tried to suck back tears, and Noctis whined and tugged his arm.

"There are things nobody is strong enough to prevent." Cor knelt down and grabbed his shoulder. "The doctors did everything they could for your mother-"

"But-!!"

"Gladio." Cor's voice halted his protest again, then spoke softly again. "Your mother wouldn't want you to dwell on the end of her life. She gave her life to give you a little sister, because she wanted you to have a sister and for Clarus to have a daughter. That was her choice. We all make such choices. Someday you may need to decide what is worth dying for, but for today, say farewell and try to walk on knowing she would want you to be happy." He patted Gladio's back very, very gently. "You're a good kid and your parents love you, no matter what your future choices are."

"Hey!" Noctis, refusing to be ignored any longer, tugged Gladio's arm and made him face him. "Gladio, you are strong!" He took Gladio's hand like he always did, his little hand as small as it was the day they met. "You're my Shield! You're the only person I want, ever!"

Gladio flushed, not sure of what to say, and Noctis hugged onto him again. Noctis was small and warm on his chest, and his hold was tight. His hair smelled like flowers. 

Gladio didn't want to let go of him. 

Gladio held Noctis’ hand as his mother’s casket was carried to the head of the Citadel chapel, followed by Father Crocus, tapping his way down the aisle with a white-tipped cane. Clarus had finally brought himself to hold Iris, arms shaking, muttering sadly to himself. Iris lay calm and undisturbed by her father’s grief. Gladio, silent and somber, squeezed Noctis’ hand and clung tight to Cor’s words:

His mother had wanted him to be happy. Noctis made him happy. He would be Noctis’ Shield if that would make him happy. 

That meant being stronger. And he would do it.

He would be strong enough for his Dad, for Noctis. 

* * *

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” Prompto had his cheek in his palm, eyebrows all knit up, eyes a little wet. Gladio, slumped in his armchair, shrugged.

“Not like you’ve heard a lot.” He smiled wryly, and Prompto whined.

“C’mon, G-Gladio.”

“You know, maybe in a lot of ways, it’s messed up. My dad told me from the day Noctis was born that someday, I was going to protect him. That it’d be an honor to lay down my life for him. I was three.” He frowned at his own fingernails. “But Noct’s been kinda told the same since he was a little kid too. Heavy lies the head that wears the crown, I guess.” Making the sign for crown almost felt like saying Noctis’ name. Gladio wished that wasn’t Noctis’ sign, but it wasn’t his choice. Regis and Clarus had made it for him. “Thing is, I dealt with it by taking it seriously. Noct dealt with it by avoiding it most of the time. And I wasn’t the only one who got pulled into it, either.” He smirked. “You think I take my job seriously?”

* * *

Gladio had begun to train with a sword when he was three, his father showing him basic stance and forms and gradually teaching him to swing, block, and parry. Noctis got reprieve until he was eight, and Clarus and Gladio trained him personally. Clarus would instruct, Gladio would model, and Noctis would follow along. He’d grown up to be spirited and cheerful, taking to training with gusto because he wanted to be strong and skilled like his father. He’d heard of Regis’ exploits and wanted to be just like his old man. Gladio would do whatever it took to make it happen for Noctis.

They were better than best friends. They were partners, partners in crime, partners on the training yard, partners in everything.

Gladio would train with Noctis until they were both tired and sweaty, but even when Gladio was putting his training sword down, Noctis was ready for more. He'd run up to Gladio and tackle him, and Gladio would twist around, laughing, and the two would wrestle until one of them would yield. It was usually Gladio, belly laughing where Noctis had him pinned under his legs on the ground.

Then, they'd shower and go to play, either video games in Noctis' room, or go on some Glaive-supervised adventure through the nearby park. Gladio would make a point of plucking a flower somewhere along the way to tuck behind Noctis' ear. 

It was after one of these training sessions that Gladio left the showers to see a kid a little smaller and younger than him waiting outside the training rooms, wearing dark sunglasses, with a satchel of books under one hand and a cane in the other. Gladio stopped a few feet out of his cane’s range and spoke clearly: “Hi! Can I help you?”

The boy turned in his direction, and Gladio saw his eyes through the dark lenses of his glasses. His pupils were unfocused and irises pale, but if he could see anything, he’d be looking right at him - or maybe right past him. “Good afternoon.” He _ enunciated _, like Gladio’s teachers often told him to, and the thought of that made Gladio scrunch his nose. “To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“I’m Gladiolus Amicitia, but Gladio’s fine. Um, can I shake your hand?” 

“Certainly.” The other boy shifted his books and extended the hand that wasn’t holding the cane, and Gladio took and shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Amicitia, though I admit I do know you by name and reputation. I’m Ignis Scientia. I was waiting for His Highness, I’m to escort him to a meeting with His Majesty.”

“Oh.” Gladio cocked his head, brow knit up. For one, he and Noctis had planned on going for a hike. For two, he knew that name. He’d met Regis’ chamberlain, Ventus Scientia, a few times, and now that he thought about it, this Ignis looked a lot like him. Talked a lot like him, too; what kid his age used titles that strictly? That was the third thing bugging him: he was unaccustomed to being called a ‘lord.’ It made him feel icky and too big. “Gladio’s fine. Really. So, uh, are you Mr. Scientia’s son?” 

Ignis’ eyes crinkled with pleasure. “His nephew. I’m in training to be Noctis’ chamberlain, as well.” He bowed at the waist as Gladio released his hand, putting his arm across his breast. “On that note, I must say it is an honor to meet the future Shield of His Highness.”

“Iggy,” Noct whined as he came out of the changing room, and Gladio almost sighed with relief out loud. “Please just call me Noct. Everyone else does.”

“Apologies, your Highness.” Ignis straightened up. “I fear it would be improper. Your father has want of you this afternoon. Please come with me."

"But-" Noctis bit his lip and looked to Gladio. "I wanted to play with Gladio."

"Apologies, Highness; Lord Amicitia will understand your need to reschedule, I'm certain." Ignis gave Gladio (or someone over Gladio's shoulder) a thin-lipped smile and took Noctis by the hand. "Shall we?"

"Aw." Noctis pouted, but waved to Gladio. "Sorry Gladio! Tomorrow!" 

"A pleasure to meet you face to face, so to speak, Lord Amicitia." Ignis bowed again towards Gladio, then turned to Noctis. "Highness."

Gladio crossed his arms, vexed as Noctis leaned towards Ignis as they walked away to tell him, "He's just Gladio, okay? We're friends, and he doesn't take all that Highness stuff seriously."

"Is that so?" Ignis chuckled through his nose, sounding like a know-it-all grandpa. "Maybe he should."

Gladio had thought he was taking things seriously by trying to be Noctis' friend while learning to be his guardian. What did this scrawny smart-aleck know that he didn't?

* * *

"You didn't like Iggy?" Prompto gaped, cheeks in his hands, mouth in a big 'O' in exaggerated shock. "No way!"

"Eh, it's not that I didn't like Specs." Gladio uncomfortably rubbed the back of his head, then kept signing, "I didn't like that he was one more person who thought he knew better for me and Noct than us." He put on a smirk for Prompto. "He's still like that, except he knows better for everyone nowadays. Watch out, he'll be fixing how you tie your shoes if you let him."

"I guess I'll see how I feel as I get to know him." Prompto shrugged and picked at the weft of the sofa's upholstery. "I wouldn't m-mind being taken care of a little."

"Yeah?" Gladio raised an eyebrow, and decided he should probably actually read Prompto's background check, especially the section on "parents/family." Later. 

"Yeah," Prompto agreed with a nod. "So, did he get in the way of you and Noct being happy?"

"Nah, never. See, what I didn't know was that Specs was there behind the scenes all along, making sure 'me and Noct' time was always on Noct's schedule. He might've had to make us reschedule meetings or play dates, but he was always good with rescheduling as soon as we could. I think Ignis wanted us to be happy, too."

"That's good! So-"

"Trouble was the actual meeting Specs took Noct to after that first time we met." Gladio lowered his gaze. "King Regis had wanted to tell Noct about this big diplomatic trip out to Tenebrae. He wanted Noct to go with him. My dad went, too. I wasn’t invited, since I wasn’t Shield yet, and anyway, they were going through friendly territory. They were going to drive out, visit for two weeks, then come home. Cor Leonis was left here to babysit me and Iris. And…" Gladio inhaled, chest feeling tight as he summoned the memories. "And you probably heard about what happened the summer Noct turned eight..."

* * *

The phone in the study was ringing off the hook in the middle of the night, and Gladio was woken by it after a few rings. He got to it with Cor stumbling a few steps behind, and answered in a drowsy mumble: "Hello, Amicitia residence-"

_ "Gladiolus." _ The wavering terror in King Regis' voice woke Gladio up all at once. _ "Is Marshall Leonis there?" _

Gladio put the phone on speaker. "Yes, Your Maj-"

_ "Cor. Cor, it's Noctis - the Imperials -" _ Regis sobbed, and Gladio's heart jumped into his throat. _ "The retinue was attacked. There was a daemon - Gods, Noctis almost -" _

Regis sobbed again, breaking into tears, and Gladio half-consciously brought the bottom of his sleep shirt to his nose. It smelled like laundry detergent. Noctis was alive, but…

_ "He's gravely injured. His… his spine was nearly severed. We reached Queen Sylva, but the damage is severe -" _

There was a distant, broken off cry through the speaker - Noctis' voice, reedy and shrill, screaming in pain. Gladio's stomach twisted into knots. Regis heaved for air on the other end of the call, and Cor finally pushed past Gladio and grabbed the phone off the cradle again.

"Majesty, I'll inform the guard and council that you will be ruling _ in absentia _ from Tenebrae until further notice. Take care of Noctis. Call me again in the morning. We will sort everything then." Cor waited for Regis' response, then hung up. "Back to bed, Gladiolus."

"Cor?" Gladio's voice cracked. "Is… is Noct…"

"Prince Noctis is under the care of the most powerful magical healer on Eos." Cor put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed a little too hard. Maybe Cor thought that was reassuring, but more likely, Cor didn't know how hard to squeeze. "He will be healed. He'll be home as soon as he's well. Have faith in him." Cor patted his back, but it felt more like a push. "Go on back to bed. I have to make a few calls." 

Gladio teetered away, feeling like his feet weren't landing on solid ground and that the floorboards were being tilted under him. His world had gone topsy turvy in an instant with a single phone call, and his anxious thoughts tossed in his head like a sailboat buffeted by Leviathan's wake. 

Noctis' scream echoed in his ears and wouldn't leave him. Noctis had been hurt and he hadn't been there for him. He couldn't do anything for him.

Why had the gods even brought them together if they were just going to tear them apart?

* * *

Gladio didn’t sleep for days after hearing the news. Iris, still only three, didn’t understand why Gladio dragged his feet all day, why he was sluggish playing with her, so Gladio kept it simple for her when she asked him:

_ “What’s wrong, Gladdy?” _Her tiny hands made the signs quickly and neatly as he failed to catch the ball she threw to him. Gladio would stare past her for a minute, and always answered with something similar:

_ “Sorry. Thinking.” _

_ “About Noct?” _ She pouted as her hands formed the sign for ‘crown’ in his name, and Gladio winced.

_ “Yeah. I’m worried because he’s hurt.” _

Iris would smile and squeeze his hand, then sign, _ “It’s okay! His daddy is with him to kiss it better! I wish Daddy were here with us. He could make you feel better.” _

Gladio didn’t know how to explain to her how badly Noctis was hurt, how much pain Noctis was in, how Noctis still might die. How broken Regis sounded when he’d spoken to Gladio. 

Regis hadn’t spoken to Gladio since, or rather, Gladio hadn’t been allowed to speak to anyone about the situation. Nobody would let Gladio pick up the phone since Regis had called that first horrible night. Gladio wanted to beg Cor to let him talk to Regis, to ask about Noctis, to find out if he was feeling any better. For even a tiny chance to hear Noctis’ voice in any way but crying.

Noctis’ pain was Gladio’s own, aching in his chest every time he thought of it.

After all, it was Gladio’s fault Noctis was in pain in the first place.

It made him want to ask King Regis something.

At night, when he tired of pretending to sleep, he would wander the manor. Most of the time, he would linger by the phone in the darkened study, waiting there on the off chance that Regis might call and let him talk to Noctis. He would stare at the phone, willing it to ring, for a chance to make things better, if not to make things right. He was standing there almost sleeping on his feet one night when Jared gently shook him awake.

“Pensive again, young master,” Jared tutted him as he escorted him to the kitchen. “Still thinking?” Even though Gladio’s eyes were bleary and wet from exhaustion and sleeplessness, he could see Jared make the sign for ‘thinking,’ and grimaced.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, dear lad.” Jared put him down on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. “We live in difficult times, but we are on the wrong side of the chessboard to change it.” Jared took out a pot and got the milk jug out of the refrigerator, then poured out a measure of milk into the pot. “We must wait until our time comes, at which point, we shall rally for our king.”

Gladio made a noncommittal noise as Jared turned the burner on, then added a dash of vanilla extract and a piece of cinnamon stick to the pot. “Surely you understand why communication has been kept to a minimum. We can’t let anyone know how badly Noctis is hurt, for fear people will lose faith that he’ll recover, and he will recover.” Gladio sighed, as Jared warmly reassured him: “Trust in Noctis, my dear boy. Have faith.”

Gladio shook his head. “Jared? Can I ask you something?” He lifted his eyes a little to take in Jared as he sniffed at the pot, then stirred. 

Jared’s wife had died when Gladio was little. She’d been a very happy old woman who’d always pinched Gladio’s cheeks and who’d smiled as she breathed her last with her hand tucked in Jared’s. Gladio also knew Jared hadn’t tasted anything since that day, but he’d never seemed to mind.

“You lost your taste when your wife died, right?” Gladio fiddled with the hem of his shirt, and Jared stilled. 

“Gladiolus, whyever do you ask?” He cleared his throat and gave the milk another stir. Gladio balled his fists against his legs.

“Um. Before. Before me. Noct couldn’t feel. Dad said he wouldn’t know if someone pinched him, or burned him, or pushed him, or hurt him.” He bit his lip. “He… he’s in so much pain now.”

Jared had stopped stirring. Gladio could smell the milk starting to scald. “Gladiolus.” His voice was so small, like Noctis’ hand in Gladio’s.

“If I… if I died, would Noct stop feeling pain?” Gladio hadn’t realized the tears were coming until his shirt was wet. “I don’t want him to hurt anymore.”

Jared’s knees buckled, and he staggered back into the stove before rushing to Gladio’s side. “Gladio! My dear boy, never say such things!” Jared grabbed him and crushed him to his chest. “Noctis would never want you to give your life up for his sake! Do you know how much that would hurt him?!”

“But!” Gladio choked out, throat clogged and tongue too thick. “But Dad! Dad said! It was my job to lay my life down for him! Don’t they want me to die for him?!”

“Nobody _ wants _ that, Gladio! It’s not just your duty to protect him, it’s your privilege to stand at his side!” Jared held Gladio tight. “To go before him and protect him! If you are to lay your life down, it will be at his side, not giving up your life to spare him pain.” He rubbed his back. “You have to understand, you are more than just a soldier, you are more than just a bodyguard. You are his other half. You have to stay alive to protect him, to care for him, now more than ever.”

“But he’ll hurt!” Gladio couldn’t suppress another sob, fat tears soaking Jared’s shoulder. Jared kept holding him in his arms like he was still a baby.

“Sometimes, life does hurt, but when we hurt, do you know what we do?” Jared held Gladio back to look into his face. “We brace ourselves, we grit our teeth, and we keep fighting. We fight through the pain, and we heal, and we get stronger. Do you understand?”

Gladio nodded, and Jared nodded back. “That’s a good lad. When Noctis comes back, I want you to teach him the same thing. Help him heal. Help him grow stronger too. He will need to grow strong to stand at your side.” He put one wrinkled hand on Gladio’s chest. “You have such a big heart, Gladio. You’ll be a lot of boy to love, but when Noctis returns, you will help him be strong enough to love you.” He gently pushed away Gladio’s tears with his thumb. “I can tell already how much you love him. Coming home to learn you left him behind would be more painful than anything a daemon could do to him. Wait for him.” Jared patted his shoulders. “He needs you.”

Gladio bit his lip and sucked back the last of his tears, and Jared dried his cheeks with his sleeve before pouring Gladio a mug of warm milk. 

Gladio learned to sleep again, promising himself that when Noctis returned, he would be there, he would be strong for him. Noctis would want him there for him, so he had to be there. When he dreamed again, it was of the day Noctis would come home, beaming and happy to see him again, how he would throw his arms around him and tell him how much he missed him. Gladio would have his best friend back. Gladio would help him get better, help him get stronger. 

When Noctis returned, in the bleak aftermath of the news that the Empire had taken Tenebrae, it was not with joy. The Noctis that returned to Gladio was not the cheerful, spirited boy who had left him months ago. Instead, it was a sullen, skinny, stoic stormcloud bound to a wheelchair, faintly shaking as Regis pushed him down the walkway back into the Citadel. Gladio wanted to run up to him, to pick him up and hug him and promise him he’d never let Noctis go anywhere without him ever again, but Clarus halted him, his arm a barrier between the two.

_ “I’m sorry. Please let him be.” _ Clarus shook his head. _ “He’s too weak to be handled roughly just now.” _

Gladio stopped cold, and watched helplessly from behind his father’s shielding arm as Regis, limping on his bad knee and looking a decade older than he had the day they left, pushed Noctis in and away from Gladio’s reaching hand.

This, he thought, was his reward for his own weakness. He hadn’t been strong enough to go with Noctis and protect him. He’d been weak, and the gods had punished him by making Noctis weak, too.

* * *

“I was so bitter.” Gladio kicked at the carpet, and couldn’t make himself look Prompto in the eye. “I was so mad that I hadn’t been given the chance to die for Noctis, and that he was so… small.” Gladio struggled for the right signs as Prompto, wide-eyed, looked on. “Not physically. He hadn’t grown, but it had only been a few months. No, it’s more like, his spirit was smaller. Like what had happened in Tenebrae crushed his big bright personality into a quiet, dour, sulking brat.” Gladio exhaled aloud, and Prompto tapped the table to get Gladio to look at him.

_ “You were both kids.” _ His signs were solid and deliberate. _ “You both had a lot to learn.” _

Gladio snorted. “You got that right. We really did. I thought the right thing to do was to heal him with as much love as I could give. That love just took a different form.” He bit his lip. “It was the way my dad loved me. Trying to make me strong.”

* * *

Noctis wasn’t allowed to return to his weapons and combat training until he was walking again, and nobody would allow Gladio to do more than talk to Noctis at arm’s length while he was healing. 

"He's too fragile," Ignis would warn him. "He's still in pain."

Their sword training, their hikes and romps in the park, and their wrestling were all traded for board games, movies, and quiet meals, all at a distance. Gladio wanted to talk to him, to get Noctis to tell him about his time away, the attack, what had happened, but Noctis never wanted to talk. Noctis never seemed to want to do much of anything but sit in his chair and fidget. 

Worse, Gladio wasn’t allowed to touch him. Everyone seemed to fear what a wrong touch could do to Noctis, so every time Gladio tried to reach for Noctis, to touch him, he would be stopped by his father or whoever had been sent to watch them. Noctis cringed when Clarus pushed Gladio's hand away when he tried to just reach over and hold his hand, and his anxious silence only deepened. 

Gladio _ tried_. He did. He tried to learn to like quieter activities. Noctis didn’t seem to like them, though, because he’d never smile when they were playing board games or cards. Gladio instead tried to think of other ways to make Noctis smile. He dug into his mother’s collection of romance novels, tucked away in a little nook in his mother’s library, for ideas of things he could do to charm Noctis, but all of the grand gestures made by those heroes were beyond his reach. Horseback rides? Long walks on the beach? Hiking up to a remote cliff and watching the sunrise? The best Gladio could do was try to bring him flowers, but that conflicted with the prohibition on touching Noctis.

Gladio would try to sneak flowers in from the garden at home, tulips or long-stemmed roses Jared had grown, that he’d trimmed and cut down, so he could put them in Noctis’ lapel or tuck them behind his ear, but he only got away with it when Ignis was there. 

He barely even smiled when Gladio brought him flowers. Then, one day, he pulled the rose from behind his ear and, with a trembling hand, gave it back: “Th-they said you weren’t supposed to. It makes it harder for Ignis to take care of me when you leave stuff he doesn’t expect around.”

That was the last time. Gladio stopped bringing him flowers after that. 

Soon, Gladio stopped visiting him altogether. Noctis didn’t want to talk about the things causing him pain. He didn’t want to play with Gladio, not even phone games. He just wanted to be in pain, to be sad. So Gladio would let him.

Gladio walked away from the sulking boy fate had tied him to, figuring he would grow into his own destiny with or without him.

Gladio hit his growth spurt a few weeks after his thirteenth birthday, and Noctis’ therapy progressed from his wheelchair to walking a few months after that. It wasn’t long from Noctis walking again that Regis wanted him to begin training with his sword again from square one. He wanted Gladio to be the one to teach him again.

Gladio stared through his father after being given the order, at Noctis trembling on his feet, toeing the dust of the training ring. _ “Permission to decline, sir?” _

_ “Denied.” _ Clarus’ lip curled. _ “Treat him carefully, but he must begin again somewhere. You were his partner before, you can be his teacher now.” _ Clarus turned his back and walked away, brooking no further argument, and Gladio faced his duty.

He would give his life for the Prince. He could waste his afternoons for him, he supposed. 

So Gladio did it. He taught Noctis his stances. He taught him to swing, to block, to parry, just like he’d learned the first time. Gladio didn’t lay a finger on him, no, but he drilled him hard, he went full bore, and he demanded Noctis grow strong again.

“Again!” He’d demand of Noctis whenever his stance wasn’t on point. 

“Again! Do it right!” He’d demand when he knocked Noctis off balance from a sloppy block.

“Again! Like you care, damn it!” He’d demand when Noctis would hit the dummy and stumble back.

Noctis, however, didn’t care. He never put forth effort, nowhere near as much as Gladio ever did, nowhere what Gladio wanted out of him. “Be strong,” Gladio wanted to tell him. “Be the strong you I remember.”

But he wasn’t. He was a sulky, pouting brat who didn’t care about anything. 

Clarus tried to give Gladio more Shield duties, like escorting Noctis to school or through the Citadel, standing guard at the door when Noctis was meeting with his father or when the two shared a meal. Perhaps it was meant to rebuild their connection on the level Clarus wanted them to connect on, but Gladio found himself wanting that bond less and less. He didn't want this petulant little brat as his Prince or as his partner. 

He wanted his Noctis back, even if it meant that he had to beat the smiling child he'd known out of this one with his training sword.

* * *

"It wasn't good. Not gonna lie." Gladio choked out a weary laugh. "But there was a lot of stuff I didn't know. Never even thought about." Prompto was chewing his lip like gum, lifting his hands, then dropping them. "Hey, if you're thinking something not-so-nice about me, you go on and say it. I probably said a lot of the same things about myself to myself."

Prompto hesitated, then raised his hands, looked Gladio dead in the eyes, then said and signed, "You were a d-dick."

"Yup." Gladio laughed mirthlessly. "But I was a kid. We're all still kids, honestly, but I'm not the brat I was when I was thirteen."

"Y-yeah." Prompto nodded, contemplation in his furrowed brow. "So, what changed it?"

"It wasn't an immediate thing." Gladio flexed his fingers, thinking for a moment. "So, it started with something that I wasn't there for, but heard about later. See, the thing about Noctis is that he seems kind of lackadaisical, but when it's important, he cares more than anyone else…"

* * *

Gladio had known Iris was fascinated with Noctis. She always asked about him on days when he'd trained with Noctis, or days when he'd been escorting his little prince here or there at a respectful distance. Gladio made sure to sneer and grimace with every sign to impart to Iris just how unpleasant he found the little milksop he had to call soul mate. 

_ "He's a brat," _he told her, sticking his tongue out. Iris shook her head.

_ "You didn't used to say that!" _ She puffed her cheeks out and pouted. _ “I wanna meet him! Let me meet him so I can see what he’s like!” _

Gladio rolled his eyes. Iris was five. She was still basically a baby. How could he explain to her what had happened to Noctis? How he'd gone from being bubbly and caring to shrunken and shriveled? Noctis had turned from a burgeoning blossom to a withered wallflower, and Gladio was officially more angry than sad that he’d slipped away. Iris couldn't understand that this boy wasn't his Noctis, so he'd blow her off and tickle her until she stopped waving questions at him. 

Trouble was, Iris was, in addition to being a baby, stubborn, willful, curious, and a go-getter. She was an Amicitia, in short. Gladio was really a lot more surprised than he had any right to be when one of the Citadel maids ran in during his practice one day and grabbed at his arm. 

"You’re Gladiolus Amicitia, aren’t you? Please come with me! Your sister's showed up!" 

Gladio ran with her all the way back to the Citadel’s main hall. Iris had indeed showed up, demanding to see Noctis, and threw a fit. (For being otherwise nonverbal, she could scream when she wanted.) Gladio scolded her, but she wouldn’t even look at what he was signing. One of the Citadel butlers agreed to ask Noctis to give her an audience, and when Gladio communicated this to her, she calmed and cheerfully let herself be escorted to a sitting room. Gladio resigned himself to playing translator, but trusted that she’d see Noctis, decide him to be a sulky brat just like he had, and go home disappointed. While waiting, however, she wandered off, leaving only her bunny rabbit. 

Gladio cursed himself for not paying more attention, for not carrying her to Noctis himself and giving her what she wanted - she was little, she didn't understand, of course she didn't understand yet! - and tore through the Citadel grounds, rain soaking through his jacket, screaming her name even though she couldn't hear him.

And then, he found her in the Citadel lobby, being toweled off by Noctis' nanny as Noctis himself knelt in front of her, signing as she dried her eyes:

_ "It's okay, I-R-I-S. Nobody is mad." _ He spell-signed her name and his motions were clumsy, but Gladio could understand his signs. When had he learned?! 

Gladio ran over to join them without a second’s hesitation and signed,_ "Are you okay? Where were you?!" _

_ "Yes!" _ Iris nodded, then pointed at Noctis. _ "He saved me!" _

Just then, King Regis himself approached, face set in a frown, and he looked at Noctis, Iris, and Gladio, all sopping wet, and frowned. “Noctis? Gladiolus? What is the commotion?”

“It was my fault.” Noctis stood in front of Iris and looked his scowling father in the face, defiant and steadfast. Like a prince should be. “I took Iris outside so we could play in the gardens, and we got lost, and then it started raining. I shouldn’t have taken her. I’m sorry.” He turned his hands and spoke as he signed: _ “I-R-I-S did nothing wrong.” _

Gladio saw Iris gasp, and her tiny hands began to fly: _ “No! No! I ran off! I’m sorry! Tell them!” _

Noctis was covering for her, Gladio knew instantly. Gladio swallowed hard when he realized that Noctis was going to let himself get punished so his sister wouldn’t be. Regis did frown at Noctis, who hung his head when his father drew himself up tall.

“Noctis, Iris is young and can’t hear. Did you consider that she might get hurt if the pair of you went off alone and unsupervised?” Noctis didn’t lift his face for even a flash of eye contact as Regis scolded him. “You’re a noble son, as well, you have to school your behavior more closely. What if you were injured?” Noctis flinched. Only Gladio seemed to notice. Regis gripped his cane tight. “You’re grounded. Go have a warm bath and put on dry clothes, and I’ll come to speak with you further later.” 

Noctis turned to Iris, hands moving discreetly: _ “It’s okay. Thank you.” _ Then, he walked away without another word to his father. Just a head held high and proud shoulders trembling over his weak back. Gladio faintly realized he was grinding his jaw together, cursing himself again.

Noctis was a good kid. Gladio had always known that. He just hadn’t seen the good heart still beating just under the surface of the damaged Noctis that had come home from Tenebrae.

“My sincerest apologies to the both of you, Gladiolus, Iris.” Gladio realized Regis was signing an apology to Iris, and turned just as Iris tried to lift her hands.

_ “Noct did nothing wrong!” _

“No, this is my fault.” Gladio scooped Iris into his arms and hugged her tight to his chest. He slid his hand into hers and signed, _ “Tell me later.” _

“I should have kept a closer eye on her when I knew she was visiting,” he said to Regis. “I’m very sorry for her. Please allow me to take her home.”

“Of course, take your leave.” Regis stepped back, and Gladio bowed with Iris still in his arms, then carried her out even as she frantically tried to sign to him:

_ “Noct helped! Noct saved me! Why is he in trouble?! It’s not fair!” _

Gladio did get the full story later: that Iris wandered off when she saw a cat in the gardens out the back window, then got lost. Noctis had sneaked out of the palace and found her, then brought her back in. _ “He said he has to sneak out because they don’t let him out!” _ Iris pouted profusely. _ “It’s not fair! It’s wrong! He got in trouble instead of me when I was the one who ran off! He saved me!” _

Gladio sneered like he always did when he talked about Noctis nowadays. _ “He saved you? Yeah, right.” _

Iris slapped his hands aside. _ “No! He saved me because he’s nice! He cares! He knew you were my brother and he said I was important to you!" _Iris puffed her cheeks out again, pouting as hard as she could. Gladio couldn't brook any argument against that face, or the sentiment on her tiny fingers.

The next day, he knocked on the door to Noctis' quarters. "C'mon, Highness, just 'cause you're grounded doesn't mean you can't train." Noctis emerged after a minute, looking dolefully up at Gladio, pouty and weary but dressed in his training clothes. He followed Gladio to the training room, and Gladio watched him much closer this time.

"Watch your stance. Heels grounded." Gladio saw Noctis adjust his feet, grinding his feet down so hard it threw him off balance. "Not like that. Keep your shoulders back and don't bend your spine so much." Noctis shifted again, grimacing, and Gladio nodded. "Good."

He _ was _ trying. He was visibly pained but he was _ trying _.

"You got guts, y'know," Gladio remarked, trying to sound uninvested. "Taking the fall for Iris." Noctis looked up, eyes wide, then sinking.

"She told you."

"I'm her big brother, she tells me everything." Gladio saw Noctis slouch over to a bench and sink down, wincing. He took a knee in front of him, and signed slowly: _ "I saw you sign to her, too. When did you learn?" _

Noctis squeezed his eyes shut, then carefully spoke while signing. "Lunaf… Lunafreya…" The sign came easier, the moon turning into the letter L. "Her brother is deaf. She signs to him all the time. I asked her to teach me."

"Uh huh." Gladio leaned in, imploring: "Why?"

Noctis didn't answer immediately, then signed, _ "My soulmate's dad is deaf. I want to talk to him. Not good yet, though. Want more practice." _

Gladio was sure Noctis had just driven his practice sword through his chest.

"I didn't know Iris was deaf too until I saw her yesterday," Noctis mumbled. "I'm glad I could help her."

"Yeah?" Gladio hoped Noctis couldn't hear his heart melting in his throat, clogging his lungs and making his voice tight. "Me too."

"It was nice," Noctis added hesitantly. "It reminded me of when you and me could go on adventures. They… they don't let me anymore." He smiled wryly, head hung. "I guess I get it. My back hurts today after running around in the rain." 

Noctis was in there. Gladio knew it now. He was still the same child, just a little scared and in pain after being hurt so badly. Gladio wanted to take him and hug him, tell him he was going to get stronger and better, but now he was afraid he might break him too.

"Hey," Gladio said softly, putting his knuckles on the ground. "Let's work on that. Your back hurts 'cause of how you were hurt, right? Let's do some exercises that'll help it. Your form'll get better if you're not compensating." He smiled, wishing he could hug his little prince. "Maybe when you're stronger, all three of us can go on adventures together." 

Noctis smiled bright again, and Gladio felt his heart shake, like it had rattled off a layer of dust all at once. 

* * *

_ "So, happily ever after?" _ Prompto grinned and hugged his knees, rocking on the couch cushion.

"Maybe _ better _ ever after," Gladio signed on, smiling as much to himself as at Prompto. "But we still had a long way to go. Thing is, Noct's injury is never gonna heal completely. He's always gonna have some pain. He's good at hiding it most days, but sometimes he's not. And… well." Gladio let his hands fall as he thought. Prompto sat up.

"Yeah?" He cocked his head curiously, and Gladio let out a sigh and smiled. 

"Well, I had some hard questions to answer. Namely, just what all these feelings I had for Noctis were and what I was supposed to do with them."

* * *

Noctis continued to train with Gladio, gradually improving. His magic training with the Glaives was coming along slowly, and on the days when his back didn't hurt, he actually proved to be sharp with a sword, like he had been before the injury. Gladio began to work with him on strength and flexibility exercises, as well, which helped make the days his back did ache him easier. Soon, Noctis was competent with forms and stances, and he could execute basic maneuvers against training dummies. Gladio would encourage him with big grins and high-fives, cheering him on every time he got better and pushing him harder when he struggled. His efforts were paying off. Most days, Noctis stood strong. Gladio knew he still lived in pain, but he was still walking down the path towards being King. He’d almost bounced back from his setback, and Gladio was so damned proud of him that words couldn't convey it. He’d relearned what he lost of his combat training, and he was, from most reports, getting better at warping every time he tried it. Nowhere near as good as Regis was (nor as good as Regis had been at his age, Clarus had privately complained), but getting better all the time.

After careful assessment and observation, Clarus and Regis decided, a few weeks after Noctis’ twelfth birthday, it was time to try sparring.

_ "Fight to the touch, and only that," _ Clarus had told Gladio the morning he declared Noctis prepared for practice combat. Gladio agreed, and told Noctis the same when he was explaining the rules of sword sparring.

"Even with practice swords -" Gladio demonstratively tapped his wooden sword against his palm - "A hard hit could hurt. A jab, a strike." Gladio demonstrated both motions, stabbing forward, slashing diagonally. "Even with a dull sword, it has weight behind it. Impact. We're here to learn and practice, not to hurt each other, so a match ends as soon as we touch skin with weapon." Gladio took stance and pointed his sword at Noctis. "You understand?"

Noctis was eager, stifling a manic grin under a controlled, bright-eyed smile. "Yeah, let's try it!" 

They took stance in the soft earth of the training ring. Gladio favored larger swords, two-handed broadsword, but he matched Noctis' preference for a short sword for a fairer fight. Noctis vibrated with excited energy, but Gladio braced himself, carefully controlled. To the touch, he reminded himself. Just a touch.

"On three. One, two…"

Gladio and Noctis each lunged at one another, swords clashing and meeting. Gladio met Noctis' swipes and slashes, then relented to let Noctis land a blow on his shoulder. It stung a little, but Noctis had pulled the motion short. He grinned at the contact.

"Gotcha, Gladdy!"

Gladio laughed and pushed Noctis' sword back. "You did. Good job. Wanna try again?"

Noctis got right back on his mark, looking as eager as he ever had. Gladio chuckled a little as he took stance, observing Noctis carefully. He could tell Noctis was favoring his left side again - a sure sign his back muscles were starting to strain. Gladio would give Noctis one more round, and he wouldn't push too hard. Gladio hated to see Noctis hurt. 

They clashed again, a ronde of thrust and parry. Noctis was stiff and mechanical; Gladio could read the telltale motions of someone who'd never really been in a fight, the rote movement of someone who'd learned technique but not practical application. Noctis would learn with time and practice. Today, Gladio would just teach him a lesson. 

He also would never hurt Noctis.

Gladio let Noctis take a few swings, easily blocked them all, then sidestepped and swung for Noctis’ shoulder. He stopped short, and Noctis gasped when he saw Gladio’s sword at his cheek. “That’s a touch, Noct. Say bye-bye to your arm.” He grinned cockily, but Noctis shook his head.

“I didn’t feel it.”

Gladio gave his shoulder the lightest tap he could. “‘Cause I didn’t want to touch you. That would’ve left a bruise if I’d gone full force. Looks like we gotta work on your guard.”

To Gladio’s surprise, Noctis scowled. “I wanna try again!”

“No.” Gladio was sharper than he meant to be, and cleared his throat. “It’s pretty strenuous. We’ll only do a few rounds a day and build you up. For now, let’s cool down and-”

Noctis threw his practice sword down and stormed off. Gladio sighed and picked it up.

“Still a brat,” he muttered bitterly to himself, admonishment and reminder alike.

Noctis seemed to train even harder than usual the next time, and was even more disappointed when he lost all three rounds of sparring. He would storm off, angrier and angrier every time. His face was wrought with anguish, but Gladio knew he hadn’t touched him with his sword, not one time. He never would. He never wanted to. He hated that Noctis looked like he hurt every time they finished.

Then, that pained look came to his face as they toed the line to begin sparring. Gladio had to pause as Noctis, already breathing heavily and tired from drilling, glared across the field, looking as bitter as if he’d already lost. “Are you sure you’re okay for this?”

“Just say ‘go,’” Noctis demanded, imperious like a prince should be. However, that wasn’t a comfort this time. Gladio shook his head, because Noctis usually only broke out the most stubborn version of himself when he had to. 

“One’a these days, Noct, I’m gonna take you to some of your dad’s spars with my dad. That way you can see how a king does it.”

“What matters is how I do it.” Noctis swung his sword. “Are we doing this or not?”

Gladio sensed something wrong with Noctis. He decided it would require a talking-to later; Noctis was getting about that age where little princes start becoming big princes, and Ignis might have needed to give him the “Testosterone and You” talk. “Remember Noct, when we’re in the ring, I’m your enemy. It’s you and me, and in the real world, only one of us would be walking away.”

“Then come at me and I’ll show you who’s dragging who out!” Noctis jumped off of his mark, and Gladio sprung into defense.

They clashed and Gladio could tell Noctis was swinging hard, clumsy and wild, but he meant every strike to hit. Gladio parried every step of the way, sidestepping and turning circles around Noct, before ducking low and slashing up towards Noctis’ chin, then just touched the soft spot under his chin where the head meets the neck.

“Dead, your Highness.”

Noctis groaned in frustration. “You didn’t - never mind! Let’s do it again, damn it!”

He toed up again, but his shoulders were trembling as he gripped his sword. Gladio didn’t take position, instead scowling.

“Noctis, you gotta talk to me. What’s wrong? Are you hurt or something?”

“Fight. Me!” Noctis swung his sword, and Gladio realized it was flying towards him. He stepped aside, but Noctis vanished in a flash of blue, then reappeared on the ground where his sword had landed. Gladio jumped to lift his sword as Noctis rushed him again, cursing whatever Glaive had taught him to warp, and barely blocked Noctis’ next wild swing. 

“Noctis!”

“Fight me, dammit!” Noctis kicked at Gladio’s ankle, trying to trip him up, but Gladio skidded back and swiped his sword at Noctis. Noctis warped out of the way - _ Damn it, Ulric! _ \- and Gladio had to jump to avoid the next blow. He landed on his back foot, and Noctis swung his way forward. Gladio parried him every step, too shocked to do anything else until he caught Noctis' rhythm and exploited it. He broke through with a hard swing while Noctis was winding up, and Noctis tumbled back to dodge. Before Noctis could recover his footing, Gladio thrust again, and the point of his practice sword prodded Noctis' chest, right over his heart.

"That's a touch, Noct," Gladio said as gently as he could, straining against his fear, anger, and frustration. "Now, wh-"

"It's not!" Noctis' voice cracked, and he threw his sword down. "It's not a touch! You didn't touch me!" To Gladio's shock, a sob burst out of Noctis. "Nobody ever _ touches _ me!"

Gladio reached for Noctis, who was now red-faced and weeping, then flinched - _ what if I hurt him? _ It was that very thought that had him realize why Noctis suffered.

"Dad is afraid to hug me! Nobody ever… not here, or school, or the Glaives, or you! You don't hug me! You won't fight me for real!" Noctis shook from head to toe, tears dripped from his face into the dirt in front of his mud-scuffed shoes. "I just want to be treated like I'm normal! I want to be normal!" He strode towards Gladio, eyes still teary. "Why would you make me feel and then stop touching me?!"

Gladio winced and started, then dropped his sword as Noctis advanced on him again. "I don't want to_ hurt _ you, Noct." 

"What if I want to hurt sometimes?! So what if something hurts?! If it hurts, I can heal! I want to hurt like I want to feel good!" Noctis stopped, toe to toe with Gladio and glaring up into his face. "I want to feel it when you hit me. I want to feel being hugged, or a pat on the head, or anything! I want to wake up with flower petals tangled in my hair! I want -” Noctis groaned, then shook his fists at his sides. “I want so much, and you won't even touch me!"

Gladio grabbed Noctis' hand in both of his, and Noctis' eyes went wide. "Noct, _ please._" 

Noctis shivered, then threw himself against Gladio's chest. Gladio fell back in surprise and toppled to the ground. Despite the hard landing, Noctis laughed, _ he laughed _, wrapping his arms around Gladio and pinning him to the ground like he would when they used to wrestle. He tickled Gladio's sides, and Gladio surprised himself with how hard it made him laugh, and he twisted and writhed to free himself.

"Stop that! I'm too big to get tickled!" He kicked and squirmed, but Noctis redoubled his efforts.

"No such thing!" Noctis kept tickling him, laughing, and both of them laughed until they ran out of breath. Then, Noctis fell against Gladio's chest, the pair of them flat in the training ring, dust rising around them. 

“Noct,” Gladio said, still laughing, “Noct, I’m sorry. I just… I like you too much to hurt you.”

“I need to get stronger.” Noct sighed and slumped onto Gladio’s chest. “I don’t care if I get a bruise! I know you’ll make me feel better. You always tell me what I did wrong. I’d rather you hurt me and make me feel better after than baby me.” 

Gladio’s heart ached. “Fine. Fine.” He sighed and sank back onto the dirt. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Noctis looked up into his eyes. Gladio sighed and put his hand in Noctis’ hair.

“For… for not being there for you.” Gladio winced. “Just, after you got hurt, I was scared to hurt you again. It’s my fault you hurt at all.”

Noctis shook his head, then rolled off of Gladio’s chest to sit in the dirt next to him. “Everyone else was scared too. When you pulled back, though,, it hurt more than where I’d been hurt.” He kept his head low as Gladio sat up to face him. “I already lost Luna, you know? And then I came home and you were gone, too. I saw you trying to reach out, but every time I let you, I got scolded for it. I hated it. I miss when you’d put flowers in my hair.”

Gladio’s eyes went wide, and he choked back a laugh. “You know why I started doing that, right?” Noctis frowned, and Gladio leaned in. “Flowers were one of the first things I could stand to smell while I was getting used to, y’know, being able to smell things. So, I’d put flowers on you and then I could get used to how you smelled.” 

Noctis laughed a little. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Gladio’s laughter died, half-hearted, and he put his hand over Noctis’. “After that, honestly, it was mostly because of how you smiled when I did it. My dad used to bring my mom flowers, and it’d make her so happy. I just liked to see you smile.”

“I miss when you'd do that.” Noctis squeezed his eyes shut. “Look, you might be the reason I hurt? But you’re the reason I feel anything. When the sun shines, or when it snows and it’s cold, or when my dad hugs me. I love that.” He opened his eyes and looked Gladio in the face. “I think I’ve loved you since I was four. I love you.”

Gladio winced. “Shut up, you’re, like, twelve.”

“I still love you! I dunno if this is like your mom and dad, or my mom and dad, but I care about you! I dunno if we’re just best friends or if maybe this is more to me, but I wanna find out, okay?” He pressed his forehead to Gladio’s.

Noctis’ hair smelled faintly of sweat, but much more of flowers.

“I want that, too.” Gladio patted his shoulder, then slung his arm around his back. “And… hey, I can’t make your dad feel safe enough to hug you, but you should tell him how you feel, like you told me.” 

“One mushy heart-to-heart at a time.” Noctis grinned, then wrapped his arms around Gladio. “Alright, so my legs are jelly. Carry me to the showers.”

Gladio laughed and scooped Noctis up.

After that, Gladio started bringing Noctis flowers again. He’d gather little bundles of violets and daisies from the garden near the training yard and wove them into crowns, then draw him in for a good hug at the end of training and send him off with flowers across his brow. 

Regis still wouldn’t allow Noctis on long hikes with Gladio, too afraid that the pain that still plagued his leg and back might get the better of him and he could possibly be hurt. However, Gladio could tell when Noctis was having one of his bad days, when his spine was too stiff or when his leg was aching, and he could tell the opposite, too, so he knew when they could have their adventures. If Noctis was having a bad day, Gladio would go visit him in his room and watch him play video games and read a novel cozied up at his side. (Noctis was a little curious about the books Gladio read, and even though Gladio was embarrassed to like romance novels, Noctis asked him to tell him what each one was about and didn’t say a word of criticism.) 

Noctis would ask Gladio to teach him to sign, and Gladio would patiently teach him conversational signs and have hands-only conversations with him so he could practice. 

Sometimes Noctis did hurt so much he wanted to be left alone to sleep it off, and Gladio would grouse but let him have his space. It just gave Noctis a chance to call him over to soothe him when he was ready for company.

Noctis wasn’t the same cheerful, curious, enthusiastic little kid he had been, but when his affection came out, Gladio found he liked the young man Noctis was becoming.

Then, out of nowhere, Noctis _was _ a young man. He was a young man learning more about what his heart wanted - or at least a teenager discovering what his body wanted - and their friendship almost imperceptibly shifted.

His voice had dropped. He was getting taller by the week. He was also watching Gladio when he took his shirt off in the changing room after sparring...

* * *

“Not like I b-blame him,” Prompto pointed out, then smirked and polished his bicep. “I mean, have you seen yourself?”

“Hah.” Gladio rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but Noct didn’t seem to notice ‘til a few months after his fourteenth birthday. But like I was saying, it wasn’t like there was one magic moment that turned us from being ‘friends’ to what we are now. Like, I can’t pinpoint when it changed. However, I know when I figured out it was happening...”

* * *

Gladio could never pinpoint exactly when the change happened. However, he knew exactly when he figured it out it had happened.

He was observing Noctis having dinner with King Regis, standing at the door to the sitting room as his father stood at the door to the kitchens. Noctis was pushing his carrots to one side of the plate, and Regis was asking Noctis about school, asking if he had decided what high schools he would apply to, if he had any friends at school he was trying to stay with.

“Not really,” Noctis answered, and his eyes fell to the tabletop. “But that reminds me.” He looked over from the table to Gladio for a moment, then back at Regis. “Next week is Red Day, right? I’d like to take Gladio out on a date.”

Regis choked on his mashed potatoes. Clarus’ eyes went wide, and he signed to Gladio,_ “What did Noctis say?!” _

_ “Nothing!” _ Gladio felt his face burning, shaking his head furiously as Regis thumped his own chest with his fist and cleared his throat.

“D-date, son?!” Regis coughed a few more times. “Did - did Gladiolus ask you?”

“No.” Noctis shuffled his carrots around again. “But I was going to ask him as soon as I got your permission.”

Gladio wanted to melt. Of course Noctis would want to ask him out. Noctis knew he was a sucker for romance.

Regis twisted in his chair to catch Gladio’s eye. “I… I see. Young Mister Amicitia, this conversation involves you, would you kindly…”

Gladio swallowed hard, then signed to his dad, _ “The king has asked me to abandon my post and join him at the table. Permission?” _

Clarus, still bewildered, shook his head. _ “No. Explain.” _

Gladio bit his lip. _ “Noctis is asking me out.” _

Clarus went crimson, and he stormed to the table, his signs shorter and more choppy than ever. _ “Majesty, sincere apologies on behalf of my son. He did not-” _

Regis held both hands up to halt Clarus. _ “This is Noctis’ idea.” _ He smiled, still looking a bit stunned. _ “It seems my son’s getting bold.” _

Clarus shook his head, hands so frantic Gladio had trouble keeping up. _ “It’s a bad idea I’m sorry I can discipline G I can’t-” _

Noctis pounded both fists on the table, then looked Clarus right in the eye and signed, slow, steady, but confident: _ “I want to date Gladdy.” _ Clarus stopped cold, eyes going wide. Noctis waved a little, grinning, then went on. _ “Did Gladdy not tell you I learned to sign?” _

Clarus’ jaw clenched tight, faintly vibrating as he ground his teeth. He signed much slower, more deliberately: _ “You are too young. He is too old.” _

_ “Seven-ten. Not old.” _ Noctis shook his head. _ “Four-ten. Not too young. _”

“Noct.” Gladio tapped the table, sighed, hesitated, then signed, _ “I’m seventeen. You’re fourteen.” _

_ “I’m not asking you to-” _ Noctis stopped, frowning, then looked between Regis, Gladio, and Clarus, and sighed. “I’m not asking you to marry me.” He mimed opening a ring box. “We’re soul mates.” He managed to sign some of what he was saying, but Gladio couldn’t quite follow his clumsy signs. “I want to take Gladio to a movie and hold his hand and eat a big box of popcorn with him for Red Day and see… how it feels, you know?” He looked to Gladio, and Gladio slowly translated for Clarus:

_ “He wants to take me to the movies.” _

_ “Permission denied.” _ Clarus laid his hands flat, indicating that the conversation was over, but Regis laughed.

“They do grow up quickly.” He pinched his brow, then looked to Gladio. “Gladiolus, do you want to go to the movies with my son?”

“I…” Gladio looked nervously to Clarus. “I think it’d be fun. I mean, me and him have hung out for years. We just haven’t called it a date.”

Regis smiled wearily, looking older than ever. “It seems Noctis would like to do so.” 

“Yeah.” Noctis nodded, then whispered, “Gladdy, please. I wanna do something romantic for you.” His chin dipped. “Like your books. Going to the movies is romantic, right?”

Gladio swallowed and bowed his head so his dad wouldn’t see his cheeks go ruddy pink. “Noct…” He swallowed hard. He was trying. Of course. Noct tried when it mattered. He looked to Regis, accepting his fate. “Your Majesty, I know we’re not kids anymore so it’s gone from play-dates to… this, but we won’t do anything stupid. If Noct wants to know how it feels, then I think it’s kinda my job to let him feel it.”

Regis nodded, then looked to Clarus, hands steady as he signed. _ “We agreed. If they wanted to be something other than friends when the time came, we would let it happen. I will not get between our sons and fated love.” _

Clarus grimaced, shoulders sinking, then caught Gladio’s eye. _ “Hands above the waist.” _

“Dad!” Gladio cringed, but Noctis chuckled and reached over to take Gladio's hand at his side, a spark of his old brightness shining through in his eyes.

“We’ll have fun, okay?”

Clarus was still disappointed, yes, and Regis was still very clearly of two minds, but the way Noctis smiled at Gladio cleared the worries from his heart.

On Red Day, Gladio borrowed Jared’s car and showed up at the Citadel with a bundle of white roses mixed with a rainbow of gladioli. Noctis was waiting for him at the front door with a few Glaives looking on. Someone (probably Ignis) had convinced Noctis into a suit, and he took the flowers with a big grin when he met Gladio at the bottom of the stairs.

“Am I gonna carry ‘em around all night?”

“I’ll ask someone to put them in water for ya before we go so they’ll stay pretty for you.” Gladio then took out a flower crown woven with the same blossoms. “But I got you this little extra you can take with you.” 

Noctis wore the crown all night. Gladio hardly watched the movie, too captivated with the scent of sweet flowers that wreathed his Noctis, or maybe he’d just been snared by his infectious smile. 

Gladio didn’t know when he fell in love with Noctis. He just knew he couldn’t imagine ever living without him, and if wanting to die for a boy wasn’t love, then Gladio didn’t know what love was.

Gladio did know that nobody’s laugh sounded better than Noctis’, nor did anyone look so beautiful than Noctis did when he was laughing. If he wasn’t already ready to give his life to protect Noctis’ life, then he would die for Noctis’ happiness.

Whatever feeling this was, Gladio wanted to chase it wherever it took him.

* * *

“And that’s it.” Gladio put his hands down with a shrug, and kicked his legs out under the table. “That’s the story. Nothing surprising, right?”

Prompto’s jaw dropped, but his hands flew. _ “You mean you think that’s nothing?” _ He shook his head. _ “That’s like, a storybook romance.” _

“Nah, man.” Gladio flicked his wrists as he signed. “It’s just… we grew up with each other, we grew into each other. He cares about me, and he wants me to love him. And it’s not perfect.” He glanced sideways at the flowers he’d left on the counter. “I’m still his Shield. If it comes down to it, I know I’ll put myself between him and anything that wants to hurt him.” He rubbed his elbow a little, then turned back to Prompto and kept signing. “And don’t get me wrong - he’s still a _ brat_.” Gladio signed it as hard as he could, grinning widely. “He’s still whiny when he doesn’t get his way, and he chats back at my dad so much that I’m pretty sure if he ever did-” Gladio stopped and imitated opening a ring box, winking at Prompto to make sure he got the gist - “Well, my dad probably wouldn’t be giving his blessing, to say the least, unless Noctis behaves a little more like a prince and less like a punk.”

“But you like Noct that way, right?” Prompto sounded oddly confident, gaze clear. Gladio just grinned.

“I do. I really, really do.” He smiled to himself. “And that’s my story.” He sat forward, signing a little more formally. _"W__hat do you think? How did you feel listening to it? Were you understanding what I was saying?” _

_ “Honestly, I ended up reading your lips as much as I was watching your hands, and the words are mostly making sense. I understood most of what you said!” _ Prompto grinned shyly, sheepish but a little proud. _ “Do…” _ His hands froze, fingers trembled, and then he signed a little slower: _ “Do people always sound like that? Even when I didn’t understand exactly what you were saying, I could hear your feelings.” _

“Yeah.” Gladio kept signing as he spoke. “It’s like reading how someone signs, not just what they’re signing. Even when you talk, I can hear your feelings.” He smirked. “Do me a favor. Say ‘Iggy.’” He spell-signed the name, and Prompto pinked.

_ “Iggy.” _ He signed it first, then said it. “Iggy.” 

Gladio nodded. He could practically hear the little heart Prompto drew in sign. “Yeah. You can hear it too, can’t you? You like him.” He put a lilt in his voice, teasing Prompto if only so he could hide how happy he was for the two of them.

Gladio was in love with love. He sort of wanted everyone to have it, and Prompto, bubbly, sunny Prompto, lit up like a solar flare when he talked about Ignis. He only hoped he glowed like that when he thought of Noctis.

Just then, the front door swung open, and Noctis strolled in, carrying his jacket over his shoulder but wearing the flower Gladio had pinned to it behind his ear. He smirked across the room. “You two look like you had a nice time.” He signed it, winking at Prompto, then dropped his jacket by the door. Ignis hurried in ten seconds behind Noctis, wild-eyed and beaming. He haphazardly threw Noctis' jacket onto a hanger, flying through the room like a whirlwind. He skidded to a halt at seeing Prompto, then stopped cold, face frozen in a wide grin, then, carefully, deliberately, lifted his hands and signed slowly:

_ “Hello, darling.” _

Gladio wondered if he had the funds to buy out the honeymoon suite at the Leville in Altissia for a month for those two. He was going to start saving. Maybe Regis would pitch in.

Prompto, for his part, beamed in return and signed big, slowly, and wide, speaking carefully: “Hi, Iggy. Thank you for the book! Gladio and I did an exercise already!” 

Ignis looked to Noctis, fear in his eyes, and whispered, and Noctis rolled his eyes but signed something to Ignis. Ignis returned his focus to Prompto, signing again: _ “That’s wonderful!” _ (Or, close enough to it.)

“Specs.” Noctis tugged his sleeve and pointed. “Those are soundproofing pads. It'll muffle sounds. As long as you speak slowly, not too loud, and face Prompto, you should be able to talk to him to your heart’s content.”

“Ah!” Ignis seemed to notice the soundproofing pads for the first time, and crept a little closer to Prompto, speaking very softly and gently. “Is this alright?”

“Uh-huh.” Prompto nodded. “It’s n-not as bad as yesterday! I h-hope it’s okay..”

“Not at all. Anything for your comfort.” Ignis took his hands. “Has today been easier for you?”

“It’s g-getting easier.” Prompto flushed, leaning into Ignis’ hold. “The t-teachers a-a-are being careful, and everyone’s b-b-b-been happy for me. But I’m having trouble f-focusing.”

“Poor dear. It will come with time.” Ignis’ brow furrowed. “Did… do you always stammer?” Prompto cringed, and Ignis patted his cheek and gently lifted his face. “It’s alright, my dear. I spent the entire day walking into posts, pillars, and doorframes because I used to have a cane to help me find them. Ah, and I have these now!” He reached into his front pocket and whipped out a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. “As it turns out, my vision is somewhat imperfect, too.”

Prompto inhaled sharply as Ignis put the glasses on, and his hands flew: _ “HELP ME he’s hotter than I thought!” _Noctis doubled over laughing, and Ignis turned about, bewildered. Gladio choked back a laugh to explain:

“He likes them.”

“Ah!” Ignis smiled fondly as Prompto recomposed himself. “I’m glad.” He pushed the glasses up his nose, preening. “And as for your auditory therapy, I have good news. You’ve gotten clearance to the Citadel therapists. Anything you need to learn and adapt will be yours." Prompto grinned, but shook his head.

"Are you s-sure it's okay? I mean, I'm j-just a plebe, so-"

"You're not 'just' anything, darling. You're important to me, and to Noctis." He brushed a strand of hair from Prompto's face. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, but everyone wants you to be happy. King Regis is looking forward to meeting you, as are Lord Amicitia and my uncle.” His eyes glimmered. “Especially Uncle Ven.”

Prompto beamed and began to ask Ignis about his uncle, and Noctis strolled across the room to join Gladio. He got on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, Gladdy,” he murmured. “Thanks for taking care of Prompto.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Princess.” Gladio leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, then spoke in a voice meant for him. “How’d it go?”

Noctis smirked, amused but without malice. “Specs’ uncle was _ crying _. Like, happy tears, kept having to turn around to dry his eyes. Your dad was in shock, and I think he was pulling Prompto’s paperwork up on his phone as fast as he could. Cor was signing something to him but he wasn't facing me, so I'm not sure what it was." Noctis shook his head, eyes alight with mirth. "My dad was happy for Specs too. He said he knew Ignis' blindness never held him back, but he was interested to see what he'd become with his sight." Noctis hid a renewed smirk. "Apparently the reason it took so long is that when Ignis barged into council chambers by tripping head over heels through the door, your dad flipped, and my dad sent Iggy to get his eyes checked. Nobody's ever seen him this, uh, uncomposed. Dad's dying to meet the guy who can make Ignis lose his composure."

Gladio glanced over to Ignis and Prompto's conversation, Prompto stammering and Ignis patiently waiting for him to work the words out, while practically vibrating with eagerness to hear what he was saying. "What can I say? The world's bright. His soul mate is brighter. I can’t even blame him. We were still kids when we found each other, it didn’t hit us nearly as hard."

"Yeah." Noctis smiled contentedly a moment longer, then returned his attention to Gladio. "How'd the therapy go?"

"Pretty well, all told." Gladio shrugged. "The stammering's been a thing. Still, we have speech therapists, and we'll encourage him to see one.” He rubbed his scruffy beard in thought. “Though, we might need parental consent. Did he tell you what his folks said?"

Those words made Noctis twist his face into a surly frown. "He said they never returned his call. According to him, they're in Lestallum or maybe out near Ravatogh for work, and they're busy a lot."

"Huh." Gladio glanced over to Prompto, animatedly chattering at Ignis. "Well, we'll get him taken care of one way or another. If we gotta abuse your power a little to get him seen because they can’t fax over their signature, so be it.” 

“Getting my friend therapy by royal decree, huh?” Noctis laughed, then nudged Gladio with his elbow. “So, you did that exercise where you told him a story, right? What story did you tell him?”

Gladio very carefully avoided Noctis’ eyes. "I told him a love story.” 

“What, like, the Epic of Zidane and Garnet? Or Ifrit and Shiva?” Noctis chuckled. “You and your romances.”

“Everyone knows how love stories go." Gladio shrugged nonchalantly as Noctis crossed his arms. "The young lovers meet." Gladio caught his eye. "Feelings start to grow. Maybe disaster strikes and tries to tear them apart, but as long as they're both willing to try, they can move forward. And then, when they're both ready, both sure, they can tell each other how they feel." He held Noctis' eyes with bated breath. Noctis stared back at him, serious in a way Gladio couldn't read, before letting his face split into a smirk.

"You're such a softie." He punched Gladio's arm. "That's probably why I love you."

"Love you too, brat." He swung a big arm around Noctis’ shoulders, and Noctis cuddled up to his chest, laughing and wrapping himself around him, a comfortable weight. Noctis had his ways of caring, and Gladio enjoyed the chance to care for him right back. They were still figuring out exactly what they were supposed to be, but the things they did for each other were just more exclamation points and question marks in a story that Gladio was still writing.

His love story hadn’t reached its happy ending yet, and he wasn’t sure where it would end, or if there would be a happy ending. However, he could see himself and Noctis where they were now, framed next to two people who were standing at the very beginning of the path. Gladio didn’t know if his story was a good one, something to aspire to or a cautionary tale, or if they should have been wary of their own future. Gladio wanted to think it wasn’t good or bad, that it simply was, and he would be happy no matter where it ended.

If nothing else, he was walking alongside someone who was meant to be at his side. The scent of flowers in Noctis’ hair was proof of that, and the tight grip Noctis kept on his hand was the same. It was a tale that was still being told, and for every chapter to come, Gladiolus and Noctis would be the heroes of their own story. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wennathia.com = The Wennath river is the largest river on the Eos map, from what I could find. The Amazon river is the largest river on Earth. I couldn't think of a better Eos equivalent.
> 
> The implied cause of Gladiolus’ mother’s death is Rh Factor Syndrome: https://www.mayoclinic.org/tests-procedures/rh-factor/about/pac-20394960
> 
> Note that the danger would only come into effect during a second pregnancy. In this, Hyacinthia is Rh negative, but both Gladiolus and Iris were Rh positive. Hyacinthia suffered severe anemia due to the medicine and bled out during delivery.
> 
> I thought Red Day would be a good equivalent to Valentine's Day, if that's not entirely clear.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought! I've loved diving a little deeper into this universe.


End file.
